by Janet Dailey
“All right. Tell them where we’re going, okay?”
Raf Simmons was already in his SUV and rolling out when Deke went to talk to Terhune. Kelly pulled her top tightly around her shoulders against the cool of the evening, rubbing her arms.
“He says teenagers hang out there sometimes,” Deke told her when he came back. “There was a party there last week. They didn’t set the place on fire and no one fell through the floor. So I guess we’re safe.”
“Good to know,” Kelly said sarcastically.
“It’s empty,” Deke reassured her. “The cops did a drive-by and a walk-through just before we arrived.”
Side by side, they headed away from the undercover cars and walked toward the factory. The skeletal shadow of the building behind them stretched nearly that far. Kelly felt better when they were clear of it.
Close up, the factory seemed solid. The high, large windows were grimy, but only a few panes were broken. Kelly realized she could make out part of the original sign, give or take a few missing letters. FINE SHOES FOR LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. A high-buttoned shoe was just visible below that. Other painted signs had been added over the years. Tattered flyers for auto repair shops and check-cashing offices were pasted over those.
The factory had seen better days, but it was still standing. Kelly had a soft spot for places like this. She noticed that a side door was ajar. Deke looked at her. “Want to take a look inside?”
“Sure.”
He took her hand. The warmth of his skin brought every second of that totally amazing kiss back in force. Kelly fought a rush of feeling she didn’t know what to do with. They went up a short flight of exterior stairs and stopped at the door. A longer flight continued up the side of the building and doubled back before it reached the roof high above.
Looking into the cavernous interior, Kelly couldn’t see the end of the space, even with light still coming through the windows. She looked up when Deke did. The vaulted ceiling was two or three stories high. It too was hard to see in the gloom.
“Looks like there used to be a second floor,” he commented.
“Maybe so. I can’t imagine having a party in here.”
“That’s because you’re not eighteen.” He laughed.
“Thank God for that,” she said fervently. She peered into the shadowy space again. “There’s a draft coming from somewhere. Feel it?”
“Probably the cellar. There could be a broken window we don’t see.” Deke stepped back, wrapping his arms lightly around her. “You cold?”
“Not when you do that.”
“Wear my jacket,” he offered.
She hesitated, then accepted with a nod. There was no knowing when she would get the chance again. He slipped it off and draped it over her shoulders, flipping up the collar around her neck. The heavy leather had retained his body heat. It felt great. “Thanks.”
The holster he wore didn’t show much next to his dark thermal top. Kelly knew he could draw his weapon without fumbling for it.
“Let’s go up to the roof,” he suggested.
She wouldn’t mind getting a bird’s-eye view. The missing woman could have escaped down an alley they wouldn’t be able to see any other way. But it was bound to be windy up there.
“I’m putting this all the way on.” Kelly slipped her arms into the roomy sleeves and fastened the snap tab at the collar so the jacket wouldn’t slip off. Eagerly, she followed him up the longer staircase.
Deke pulled himself up and over using the iron frame at the top. He looked back down at Kelly. “You’re going to love the view.”
“I bet it’s very scenic.”
She took the strong hand that reached to assist her and made it over the building edge without any trouble. The view actually was interesting, although it was anything but beautiful.
The Atlanta skyline in the distance glittered against the glowing sunset sky. The abandoned building didn’t look as lonely with that as a backdrop. She could guess at the extent of the largely vanished neighborhood below from their high vantage point.
Besides the alleys, there were faint, very faint, trails through dusty lots that had once been lawns. Young children had run over them, back when kids played outside. She could imagine clotheslines hung with washing, and mothers making small talk from one yard to another, visiting with each other before the fathers came home from this factory and others. Bygone days had left their marks before they vanished forever.
She smiled to herself. Human interest. Every newshound learned what it could do for a story. By this point, she did it automatically.
Deke was thinking along more practical lines, judging by his expression. His dark brows were drawn together and his gaze was intent, almost as if he were studying a map.
“She could have come down that alley,” he muttered, talking more to himself than to Kelly. “It’s the only one that connects directly to the parking lot. And it’s so narrow she had a chance of not being seen.”
He straightened and looked at Kelly. “You know, Kelly, you’re the only actual eyewitness. Everyone else at the scene saw her through a lens or on tape.”
“I only caught a glimpse of her.”
“No one else did,” Deke argued.
“So what? Your team analyzed the tape frame by frame. The drawing they came up with has to be better than my memory.”
He shrugged, looking out over the desolate blocks below. His gaze stopped on a boarded-up house not far from the abandoned building. “She could have gotten that far and hidden for a while.”
“Let the cops get a search warrant and do the looking,” Kelly said firmly. She knew what could turn up behind doors nailed shut.
“I could still do ground tracking. There have to be clues all over this area. It hasn’t been that long.”
“There’s nothing to see.” She undid the snap tab at the jacket collar, enjoying the feel of the wind on her body. Being up on a roof and above it all was liberating.
“Sometimes that depends on how hard you search, Kelly.” He studied her for a moment. “You look good in that.”
“It’s too big. But I love it.” She grinned at him, hoping he wouldn’t ask for it back right away.
“Keep it on until we get to the car.” He chucked her under the chin. “Ready to head home?”
For a second, looking into his dark eyes, Kelly forgot that she didn’t have one.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Kelly took a mirror out of her desk drawer and glanced at her reflection, then winced. Her sleepless night showed. She put the mirror away so fast she thought she’d cracked it. Like she needed any more bad luck. The card and the mutilated photos were with Deke, but a faceless image of herself had appeared in her dreams.
A soft knock on her open door made her whirl around.
“Good morning,” Coral said. “I was wondering if this was a good time to talk.”
“Is it about the building?” Kelly asked.
“No.” Coral seemed reluctant to say more.
“Close the door and come in,” Kelly said. “Have a seat.”
Coral looked up and down the hall, and then clicked the door shut. She settled next to Kelly in the chair by the desk. “I was talking to Laura last night,” she began.
“Oh. And what did she say?” Kelly had a feeling she knew what this was about.
“There’s a lot going on, and you’re right in the middle of it. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“That would be today’s big question. I guess she told you about the shootout.”
Coral nodded. “She just blurted it out. That’s why she’s quitting, right?”
“Yeah. And I won’t.” Kelly reached into her desk and held up the bagged press pass. “Check this out. My souvenir of the shooting.”
“Is that you? But it—” Coral looked pale when she saw the bullet hole. “Oh my God.”
Kelly put the pass back in its hiding place. “And I got photos of myself from a benefit ball in Dallas, also shot
through the face. Not suitable for framing.”
“What’s going on?” Coral said. “You should tell the police.”
“I have.” Kelly wasn’t going to get into her relationship with Deke. “There’s a limit to what they can do, and I haven’t actually seen whoever is trying to intimidate me. Let’s hope that’s all they want to do.” She kept her voice steady. There was no sense in scaring a junior reporter half to death.
“I had no idea.” Coral left it at that.
“Laura didn’t know about the pass. Can we talk about something else?”
Coral collected herself. “Sure. If you have the time.”
“I could use a distraction.” Not the most flattering answer, but it was the truth.
The junior reporter took a deep breath. “I also wanted to ask you—I mean, I heard talk, you know how it is in the newsroom—about Gunther Bach.”
Kelly frowned. She wondered who’d seen her in the restaurant and cranked up the gossip machine. It could have been anyone from a former colleague she hadn’t spotted in time to a busboy with dreams of tabloid glory. No doubt there was a smartphone snap of Gunther leering at her somewhere on the web.
Sometimes she wished she wasn’t so well-known. Of course, she took full advantage of it when she needed to.
“He’s a financier,” Kelly said. “Super successful.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Coral’s interest put Kelly on the spot, but she didn’t actually mind that much. The junior reporter was a natural—and Kelly could use some help.
“Someone told me that Bach was under government investigation, so I had an informal lunch with him,” she replied. “You never know what people will say off the record. He’s made hundreds of millions of dollars in the last couple of years, and no one can figure out how.”
“Did you find out anything?”
Kelly leaned back in her chair. “Not much. He sidestepped my questions, but I have to admit he’s intelligent. And a major creep. I ran into him at the ball in Dallas, by the way.”
“Really? He could be stalking you.”
“I don’t think so.” Although Kelly wasn’t totally sure of that. “I heard he was trolling for rich Texans.”
“Even so. What you get to do is exciting. I wish I got sent out of town on assignment.”
“I was on my own. It had nothing to do with WBRX.”
“How long did it take before you could set your own hours?”
Kelly wouldn’t put it that way. She worked harder now than she ever had. “A while.”
Coral looked around Kelly’s office. “I’m dying to move up and out of cubicle land. No what-are-you-working-on questions from colleagues. No one looking over your shoulder.”
Kelly didn’t reply. Her lips were pressed together as she tried to keep from smiling. Coral turned beet red.
“Which is exactly what I’m doing to you, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Kelly. I don’t know what got into me.”
“It’s all right.” Kelly laughed. “Look, I could use some help with other things. You up for extra work? But you do have to keep your mouth shut. This is between you and me.”
Coral was taken aback by the blunt reply, but Kelly didn’t have time to be polite. “If I can get something on the air, I’ll make sure you get credited for extra reporting,” she added, softening just a little.
“Oh. Okay. Yes. Absolutely.”
Watching Coral go from zero to sixty for a chance to get her name on something was funny.
“Fine,” Kelly said. “I’ll let the assignment editor know you’re researching a proposal for me in your spare time. Just so long as they know where you are, they won’t care.”
“Great,” Coral said. “And I won’t say a word. You would know who blabbed if I did. If that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” They understood each other.
“When do you want me to start?”
“How about now? You can work in here for a while unless there’s something you have to be doing in the newsroom.”
Coral got up. “Let me get my notebook and my purse. I’ll be right back.”
While she was gone, Kelly moved things around, placing her laptop squarely on her desk and shoving the monitor for the station’s computer to the angled section for Coral to work on.
The junior reporter came back, carrying a few things.
“Go ahead and see what you can find on Gunther Bach,” Kelly said happily. She had never had an assistant as a reporter, and she hadn’t thought she would need one as an anchor. But if she was going to do both jobs, this could work out fine.
“Ooh. Here’s the Dallas event. The Billionaires’ Ball, huh?”
“It should be extensively covered.”
“Yup. Plenty of photos. And there he is. So well-groomed. And look at that silver hair. Icy eyes, though.”
Kelly looked over from her laptop. “He’s a shark, and there’s blood in the water.”
“That sounds awful. But I know what you mean.” Coral studied the images, clicking through to the sites that featured them. Absorbed in her work, she didn’t say more, and the office was quiet except for the mouse on the mouse pad.
Kelly kind of liked the company. And she wasn’t able to obsess the way she did when she was alone. An hour went by before either spoke.
“I was wondering why the newspaper articles and magazine mentions were all so positive,” Coral finally said. “Then I found this PR profile on Bach.” She swiveled the monitor around to show Kelly. “Atlanta’s top ad agency created it and everyone cribbed from it. Not exactly news.”
“People don’t always know the difference.”
Coral tsked. “They should.”
“You have a lot to learn,” Kelly said, smiling.
“I guess. Let’s see—I looked at the European finance sites in English,” Coral said after a while. “Apparently Gunther Bach is very good at staying several steps ahead of investors demanding their millions back. Supposedly, the risks involved were explained to all. Smart people got out early and raked in the bucks. The latecomers lost out.”
Soon to be repeated in the US, Kelly thought. She wondered if Gunther Bach had gone on to Mexico after the event in Dallas. Deke had access to information like that. She didn’t.
“Want all these pages copied?”
“Go for it.”
Quickly moving the mouse, Coral copied articles and web pages, moving everything into a catchall file on the computer screen. “Do you have a printer in here? I forgot to ask.”
“Yes I do. It even works.”
“Send and . . . print. Here it comes.” The junior reporter looked up at the clock. “Time for morning meeting. Gotta go. That was fun.”
“Thanks. Remember, you’re on the company schedule, not mine,” Kelly said. “Don’t fall behind on your own work.”
The printer hummed and spat out pages. Kelly got up and adjusted the printout tray so they wouldn’t all end up on the floor. Later, she would discuss what Coral had found with Deke.
Kelly’s plans hadn’t changed. The right story still could mean vaulting through the ranks to a national news slot and, yes, grabbing a golden statuette with her name on the base. Kelly didn’t care if glory was fleeting.
She started looking for coverage of the shooting. Owing to the blackout, there wasn’t much. But WBRX already had exclusive material to offer: live footage from the scene, which would be edited, padded out with commentary, and jazzed up with graphics and sound effects.
Kelly found a bare-bones report on the police blotter for that day and short mentions drawn from the scanners breaking the news. Additional reporting from behind the yellow tape didn’t add much, but she could write her own copy. If they had to slap a feature together fast, they could do it.
Kelly printed out a few pages and left her office, looking for Monroe Capp. She figured he would be in the control room, supervising the process of putting together the early afternoon newscast before it aired.
With one hand on the doorknob, she turned it and peeked inside. She could just see Monroe, silhouetted in front of multiple screens glowing in the large, dark room. There were at least a hundred of them, some larger than the others, displaying various elements of the show and technical information.
The director sat in the center of it all, manipulating an enormous console switcher, his hands moving over brightly colored knobs and switches arranged in rows. Not far from him was the technical director, wearing a headpiece mic with another in front of him on a thin silver wand. Other staffers were looking into screens on the side.
The producer was going over the live shots and prerecorded elements with Monroe, trying to get the right mix. He wasn’t in the best of moods. Above them was an illuminated clock, its hands moving inexorably toward showtime.
Kelly closed the door softly, not wanting to get yelled at. She’d have to catch Monroe later. On her way back to her office she heard her cell phone ring and ran, hoping it was Deke. She wasn’t disappointed.
“Hello,” she said. “How are you? Where are you?”
“Still in Atlanta. But not for long.” His deep voice was reassuring, but the words weren’t.
“Oh—too bad. I was thinking we could have dinner or something.”
“Wish I could, Kelly. Sorry. I got picked to go back to Dallas, tie up a few loose ends.”
“All right. Then I’ll see you when you get back.” She kept her tone cool, trying to sound professional.
“First thing. I promise.”
Kelly just didn’t want to let him go. She reached out and closed her office door. “Deke, did you take the card to your forensics lab? Anything to report?”
“I left it with the paper specialist. The card and envelope are heavy stock, with some texture, which means John might not be able to pull a latent print. But he’s going to try.”
“Thanks.”
“The photos are totally clean, outside of the bullet holes. Untouched by human hands, John said. But he’s looking at them too. Then the handwriting analyst gets a go at it.”
Kelly was grateful for all the experts she didn’t know and might never meet. She heard the sharp rap of knuckles on her door and opened it to Monroe, keeping the phone against her ear.